


Sweet Seduction

by felandaris



Series: Caboodles and Chantry Boys [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alistair and Cullen's first time, Anal Sex, Consensual Sex, Ear Kink, F/M, First Time, Help, M/M, NSFW, Threesome - F/M/M, Tickling, Voyeurism, Yaoi, ear sucking, guess who's the bottom, i cant stop writing these dorks, with focus on the boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5012155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Chantry boys go all the way (and the Inquisitor gets to watch).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting as first one didn't show up in list of works (uh, thanks, AO3. I guess).
> 
> Second of two thank you fics for reaching 1k followers on Tumblr (first one [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4947193)).

The room is bathed in moonlight and quiet. Sheets lie tangled in ruffled evidence of recent exertion. A calloused thumb sits on a slim flank, caressing dreamy spirals onto sensitive skin.

 

Sinewy arms are spread out flat in inviting surrender. Thick thighs rest around yet-still hips. Eyes of liquid caramel blaze upwards, seeking, urging.

 

Cullen nods. Alistair’s heart beats louder, drowning out their expectant breaths. One by one he withdraws his three fingers. Sees Cullen wince with emptiness, with the same shock of cool that drags across his knuckles as they emerge.

 

As is his way, Alistair deflects nerves with whimsy. Reaching behind, his fingers find the sole of a broad foot, curl into a tickle. He watches the skin around Cullen’s eyes crinkle with a hushed chuckle that echoes his own.

 

When their lips straighten back into seriousness, Alistair’s eyes roam across the waiting figure underneath him. Each dash of his pupils, every new impression sends a flash of heat into his belly, his groin.

 

There is something devastatingly erotic about having the Commander, this utter embodiment of masculinity, sprawled out for him like this. About the way his legs are spread wide, beckoning him inside. About his husky whisper when he asked to be the one taken on their first time together.

He has, of course, taken someone’s innocence once before, along with his own. Thankfully images of that cherished occasion in a jittery tent don’t intrude as he reaches for the flask, never breaking eye contact.

 

The cork plops, a simple sound bearing so much promise. A soft _oh_ pours from Cullen’s lips as Alistair coats his shaft with a few careful strokes. It stokes his pride, his affection, his need.

 

When he’s covered in pleasant slick he stills, aware of what’s to happen next but caught in the moment. Absorbed in the rise and fall of Cullen’s chest; the nervous flick of his tongue; the sturdy stretch of that erection he’ll want another taste of later.

 

His mouth opens but the feather-light brush of Cullen’s finger over his cheek shushes him. Cullen’s smile, warm and without the usual crook, bears the final spark of encouragement he needs.

 

He takes himself in hand, ignoring his trembling fingers. His heart hammers even faster, higher while Cullen’s mouth opens another bit with every inch he draws closer.

 

Both gasp when his crown comes to rest against the opening, stretched yet tiny still. A few testing circles, accompanied by a myriad of thoughts, none of which instil any doubt. He _wants_ this.

 

And so he takes him.

 

Alistair lays his entire being into the one movement, that roll of his hips as he breaches Cullen, pries him open. Breath escapes them as he progresses through the muscular barrier that absorbs inch after greedy inch of his shaft in a grip unlike anything he’s ever felt.

 

From deep within Cullen’s chest comes a sound that’s ethereal, almost otherworldly- equal measures of surprise, lust and _pain_.

 

It only occurs to Alistair that his eyes had fallen closed when they fly open, focussing on Cullen,who is grimacing in ecstasy- _or agony?_

 

He freezes halfway in, stuck between pleasure and guilt, frantic eyes searching his lover’s. Immediately those strong legs tighten around him, slim hips push up and a single word penetrates deep into his blood, his soul.

 

“ _Alistair_.”

 

His name, enunciated in notes of restrained longing and naked affection, does it.

 

Their groans melt into one as Alistair presses forward. He slides inside, and deeper, until his groin touches upon firm buttocks.

 

Alistair pauses, grinding his teeth. His vision blackens when his eyes fall shut once more, and his head drops to the crook of Cullen’s neck. Arms wrap around his shoulders as they remain still, breathing each other in. A moment passes, then another,as his senses fill with warmth and musk.

 

Then a clever tongue sneaks out to lick at his earlobe. Cullen’s scar rises in a smirk when Alistair’s cock twitches inside him.

 

He starts moving then, a sigh escaping him as he braces himself on his forearms. Eyes meet, gazes lock, and each movement is reflected in Cullen’s face; in the pinch of his brow when Alistair slides home; the silent opening of his mouth as flesh collides with flesh; the hiss when that sweetest, most secret place inside him is caressed.

 

Cullen is deep, tight and well-slicked. Alistair is _drowning_ in him, in the sensations. Each fraction of a motion sends a shiver down the back of his neck, his stomach, fingertips.

 

 _And elsewhere too, of course_.

 

Togetherthe lovers find their pace, rocking into each other as they uncover the familiar within the new. In his experiences until now Alistair’s hands wouldroam across breasts, play with long hair. Tonight they pinch dainty nipples, trace powerful shoulders, ruffle tousled curls.

 

It’s the sting of a palm on his buttock that makes him lean in and breathe three, four kisses over a flushed ear before he finds his voice. He tells Cullen how he looks, feels, how Alistair feels _about him_.

 

At those last few words his head falls sideways, and Cullen’s bottom lip quivers. They share a look of awed solemnity. Two men, raised under the Chantry’s banner, finding fulfilment in what they were taught to be a most despicable sin.

 

From the side he detects a motion, a sniffle. Senses more than sees the tear running down her cheek as she watches.

 

Alistair’s world is spinning with sight, sound and sensation. His whispers come bolder now. Lewd, throaty words convey what he wants to see, feel, _do_ to him.

 

Cullen nods, bidding him _yes_ and _please_. He’s humbling in his submission, leaving Alistair powerless, a slave to his allure.

 

Sitting back on his haunches, he holds on to Cullen’s sides. He goes in deeper, moves faster. Cullen moans, a lustful sound, as his head rolls sideways, his face a mask of near-overwhelming pleasure.

 

Alistair’s hand finds Cullen’s cock, grasps where it’s lying flat against his stomach. Oily fingers move velveteen skin over ironclad length, coaxing incomprehensible mumbles from its owner.

 

His own sac is tight now, heavy with impending release. Each slap against that luscious bottom is sweet torture, his every pore brimming with need.

 

Moving his fingers up, he works around the head, harder with each stroke. Cullen watches him, watches _himself_ , until his moan rises to a thin falsetto then breaks into a croak. Alistair barely registers the gland’s twitches in his palm before the wide head contracts in hot, creamy spurts, going nowhere yet so full of meaning.

 

Sensation transcends into warmth, then clarity and finally bliss. As he feels his length swelling, ready to spend _inside Cullen_ , he sinks down onto that broad chest. They share a kiss that’s lips, tongues, teeth, hands, voice; searing, all-encompassing as they find completion in each other.

 

After climax comes peace. Alistair’s withdrawal is reluctant, and as soon as he collapses into the pillows Cullen turns to face him, continuing their kiss. Now it’s lazy pecks, playful nibbles, little chuckles.

 

Alistair coos as he wipes Cullen clean, finding an almost-forgotten tenderness in his voice, his touch.

 

When he pulls up the covers, arms wrap around shoulders, legs around hips, their bodies moulding into each other as if they’d never known anything else.

 

The slowing cadence of their breathing becomes the only sound as they rest, smiling with their eyes closed, savouring the lingering euphoria of what they’ve created.

 

She’ll join them soon, crawl up from the bottom and nestle in between them. They’ll welcome her, certain to pleasure each inch, every curve of her until she _sings_ their names.

 

But this, right now, is their moment. Cullen. Alistair. Warm bodies, gentle hands and knowing smiles.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So. Phew. (wipes sweat off forehead) After [Observations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4831235) I tried to keep up the level of emotion between these two and make it special. I hope it worked. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, kudosing. It means the world.


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